


We Are Fain of Thee Still, We Are Fain

by Helholden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: ADWD spoilers, AFFC spoilers, ASOS Spoilers, Angst, Death, Drunk Sex, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen, Humor, POV Male Character, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helholden/pseuds/Helholden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ah, where shall we go then for pastime, if the worst that can be has been done?” A collection of various Jaime and Brienne centered vignettes. Some are depressing, some are funny, some are sweet, and some are smutty. A little bit of everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And good shall die first, said thy prophet

**Author's Note:**

> All titles come from the poem “Dolores” by Algernon Charles Swinburne.

_i._

 

Jaime looked up at the sky above him, squinting under the sunlight. It pierced his eyes and blinded his vision, but he wouldn’t close his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to open them again, and he wanted this moment to last. He wanted it to last as long as he could make it last until the sky opened up and poured out its last remnants of peace into his soul. Jaime could accept everything that was about to happen as long as he knew he was forgiven.

 

He never put much stock in the gods, but when he lowered his gaze and saw Brienne staring back at him with silent tears glimmering in her eyes, he thought this must have been all up to fate. Jaime tried to smile at her. “Do not fear, my lady,” he assured her. “This is just.”

 

Jaime had already forgiven Brienne, even if she didn’t believe it.

 

The white-haired figure, a ghostly vestige of Lady Stark, raised her hand and drew it across her neck. Someone kicked the box out from under his feet, and Jaime felt the noose tighten around his neck as he dropped. His vision blurred, his eyes growing wet with moisture.

 

When his feet kicked their last movements into the air, Jaime found stillness in a measure of peace at last.


	2. Sweet as the rind was, the core is

_ii._

 

Jaime kicked the door shut behind him, effectively closing it right in Ser Hyle’s face. Jaime held up his good hand, raising a single finger as well as his eyebrows. He took one step forward, and stumbled. “That man,” he slurred, “is _annoying_.” Jaime started to shuck off his coat, and Brienne’s eyes went wide.

 

“Ser Jaime, what are you doing . . . ” she asked, but her voice trailed off.

 

Jaime paused. He glanced around the room, and then turned his gaze to stare at her. “I’m getting ready for bed,” he said slowly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why? What does it look like?”

 

“You cannot sleep in the same room as me,” Brienne protested. “Ser Jaime, it is inappropriate—”

 

“No,” Jaime said, dropping his coat. He walked right up to her. “This is inappropriate.” He leaned forward and captured her lips in a drunken kiss, and Brienne made to pull away, but then his tongue slowly snaked out against her lips. Brienne froze under the sudden assault. After a moment of stillness, she melted against him, parting her lips for his tongue. Brienne tasted of wine. She had been drinking, too. Her inhibitions weren’t nearly as bad as they normally were, and Jaime worked her out of her clothes in no time.

 

He had her against the bed in what seemed like no time at all, and they were naked and sprawled over the bed, Brienne’s legs wrapped around his hips in a way he thought belied her usual awkwardness. He kissed her hungrily, slow and gentle at first, but her womanly moans were so beautiful he began to thrust with wild abandon. The headboard slammed against the wall over and over, and he hollered out each time along with her, their breaths intermingling hot between their faces.

 

When they reached their peaks together, Ser Hyle slammed his fist against the wall from the other room.

 

“Seven hells, keep it _down_ in there!”

 

Jaime fell against Brienne’s naked and sweaty body, laughing hysterically in his drunken state. But it was okay, because Brienne was laughing too. Jaime grinned down at her and her shining eyes, glazed from pleasure and wine. He couldn’t remember the last time she smiled, and his mouth descended on hers to kiss it and make it his own.


	3. There are deeds it may be to delight

_iii._

 

“I’m not playing this game with you.”

 

“You’re playing this game with me,” Jaime said, deadly serious.

 

“I am _not_.”

 

“Yes, you are. Close your eyes.”

 

Brienne glared at him. “No.”

 

“My lady—”

 

“Call me ‘my lady’ one more time, Ser Jaime, and see what happens,” Brienne told him fiercely, pointing her finger at him. Her eyes were stern, giving him no reprieve. Jaime bit the inside of his cheek.

 

“My lady,” he said softly.

 

“Jaime . . . ”

 

“My _lady_ ,” he drawled out on purpose.

 

“I’m warning you—”

 

“ _My lady_ —” he whispered, leaning forward.

 

“Jaime!” she hollered at him, exasperated. Her arms splashed against the water as she flung them. Her eyes were wide, her hair disheveled, her cheeks adorable with their sudden redness. Jaime bit down on his tongue, trying not to laugh at her reaction.

 

“Close your eyes,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

 

Brienne sighed deeply, and finally she relented and closed her eyes. Jaime slowly slid closer to her in the water. When she kept her eyes closed without opening them to peek, he raised his hand and splashed her with water. Brienne gasped and then squealed, a very unfamiliar sound out of her throat, and Jaime hurried to get away from her before she could catch him, but she snatched him halfway through the water and yanked him under.

 

When he came up again, sputtering, Brienne was glaring at him. Jaime coughed, wiping the water from his eyes, and grinned at her. “My lady?” he asked.

 

Brienne shoved his head under the water again.


	4. And they mixed and made peace after strife

_iv._

 

They were riding on horseback across the plain when Jaime pointed at another one of the clouds high up in the sky. “What does that one look like?” he asked, neither one of them in particular, but gods, he needed conversation on this journey if he wasn’t going to die from boredom.

 

“It looks like nothing, Ser Jaime,” Brienne said flatly, not even bothering to look at the cloud.

 

“Oh, come then, you didn’t even look at it,” Jaime complained. He turned to their other companion on horseback a few feet behind them. “Lady Sansa, what does that cloud look like?” he asked her.

 

Sansa glanced up at the cloud, shielding her eyes in the sunlight surrounding it. “It . . . it looks like rabbit,” she said, lowering her hand.

 

Jaime made a face. “That doesn’t look like a rabbit.”

 

“You _asked_ her what it looked like,” Brienne said, “and she told you.”

 

“Yes, but it’s not a rabbit. How do you get ‘rabbit’ out of that?”

 

“It looks like a rabbit,” Sansa repeated, matter-of-factly.

 

“I agree, Lady Sansa,” said Brienne. “It looks like a rabbit.”

 

Jaime sighed deeply. “Women,” he said, shaking his head. Then, more firmly, “It’s not a rabbit.”

 

“You’re really going to argue this?” Brienne asked him, and she glanced over at Jaime as she trotted her horse alongside his.

 

Jaime was quiet for a moment. “It’s not a rabbit,” he repeated.

 

“You’re right, Ser Jaime,” Sansa suddenly said. “It’s not a rabbit.”

 

“Oh?” he said, feeling a little triumphant. “What does it look like, then?”

 

“It looks like you,” Sansa said, and Jaime halted his horse, turning to stare at Sansa with wide eyes. He glanced between Sansa and Brienne in disbelief, but neither of them stopped their horses and they kept on moving. Brienne just shrugged her shoulders as she looked back at Jaime, trying to hold back a smile from her lips.

 

“Did she just call me a rabbit?” Jaime asked, hurrying to catch up with them again.


	5. We shift and bedeck and bedrape us

_v._

 

The rain poured down in torrents, flooding the roads and walkways, turning the dirt into muck and mud and endless streams of connecting puddles. They took shelter under the eave of a stable, the strong smell of wet dung surrounding them, but it was better than standing out in the rain huddled in their drenched cloaks. The way to the inn was blocked by a crowd of men in armor, Lannister men loyal to the crown.

 

Luckily, Jaime and Brienne wore their cowls, which hid their faces from view. Jaime looked over at Brienne, who was shivering despite the thickness of her garments. She noticed his gaze and glanced at him as well, and he saw in her eyes the worry and trepidation they both faced out here on their mission. If they planned on getting the Stark girl back alive and safe away from Cersei, they couldn’t be caught this soon into it.

 

“Who do you think they are?” Brienne asked him, and Jaime gazed out at the men through the sheets of falling rain. He saw the parchment, the dark sketch of the Hound’s helmet scribbled onto its surface. The paper caught water, darkening under its touch.

 

“They’re looking for Sandor Clegane,” he said, seeing the sketch.

 

“But it wasn’t the Hound,” Brienne told him, shaking her head. “It was Rorge. I killed him myself.”

 

“We know that,” Jaime said. “They don’t.”

 

They waited in silence under the eave of the stables until the armored men marched off from the inn, returning to their group of horses, mounting them, and trotting off. Jaime waited until they were well out of sight before taking Brienne by the arm and urging her to follow him. They walked out into the rain and nearly ran into a group of men all wearing brown cowls. _Men of the Faith_ , Jaime thought. They were everywhere these days, multiplying faster than rabbits. Jaime quickly moved out of the way of a large, bulky man much taller than him.

 

“Apologies, good ser,” Jaime said, and the figure halted. Shortly after him, the other men in brown hoods stopped as well, turning around to inspect the scene. Brienne looked nervously at Jaime as the rain cascaded down her face, her hand going to her sword hilt beneath her cloak. Jaime stared at the tall man who looked down at him, the long brown cowl covering his face from sight.

 

“Ser?” the man rasped, almost contemptuously.

 

Jaime’s eyes went wide. He knew that voice. He would recognize it anywhere.

 

“A man of faith now, Clegane?” Jaime asked him, and Brienne began to draw her sword. Jaime held up his hand at her. “My lady, no,” he said without breaking his gaze from the bigger man.

 

“And you, a stable boy?”

 

“We all have our parts to play.”

 

“Going to stop me, is that it?”

 

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “Where are you going?”

 

“King’s Landing,” Clegane said. “I have unfinished business there, and you?”

 

Jaime took care with how much he revealed to the man. “I’m going to save someone,” he answered, leaving out the part about whom.

 

“Good luck with that out here,” Clegane rasped, cutting his glinting eyes across the unforgiving landscape, before backing away from Jaime and turning around to leave with the other Men of the Faith at his side. Jaime watched as they walked away under the heavy rainfall until he could no longer make out their figures in the night.

 

“Why did you let him go?” Brienne hissed, and Jaime shook his head at her.

 

“Because he isn’t the enemy,” Jaime said softly, and he looked at Brienne. “Come on,” he added, “there are worse things out in the dark than him, and we’ve got to find her before it’s too late.”


	6. Thou shalt hush him with heavy caresses

_vi._

 

Jaime’s eye was swollen and black, and he tipped his head back as Brienne examined it. Her hands were delicate against his hurt skin, even though they were larger than most women’s hands. When she seemed satisfied with her inspection of his eye, she carefully pressed a cool rag against his hot, swollen skin. Jaime winced, but Brienne did not mock him for it.

 

“You should not have taunted him,” Brienne said, frowning. “He’s a big man. He didn’t like that very much.”

 

Jaime groaned in the back of his throat. “You think I don’t know that?”

 

“Then why’d you do it?”

 

Jaime sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Who knows,” he said. “I speak before I think.”

 

“Next time,” Brienne advised, “think first.”

 

“I did,” Jaime said. “I thought he was a big stupid oaf with a walnut for a brain.”

 

Brienne gave him a look that said _you know what I mean_ , and he did, but he couldn’t resist the joke. “And now you have a black eye . . . ” Brienne pointed out, raising her brow at him.

 

“So I’ve noticed,” Jaime told her, eyeing her. “I bet his fist didn’t even feel it.”

 

“Your eye sure did,” Brienne said.

 

Jaime laughed, wincing at the same time. “Gods, yes . . . ”

 

Brienne gently ran her hand against the side of his face near his eye, her fingers touching his cheek and grazing against his hair near his ear. It sent a tingle down Jaime’s spine, and he turned his head slightly to look at her. “What was that for?” he asked her, his voice low and heavy.

 

Brienne, seemingly only just realizing her action, pulled her hand away. “I am sorry, Ser Jaime,” she said, looking down at her lap with a pink blush coloring her cheeks.

 

“No,” he murmured, “don’t be.” He reached out for her then and leaned forward, his lips grazing against hers. It was light brush of his lips to hers, and he spoke between them, his hot breath washing over her face. “Do it again,” Jaime whispered, and Brienne’s cheeks turned redder. She looked like she might protest. “Please,” Jaime said against her lips, and he felt Brienne’s hand on the side of his face again, her fingers gliding over his cheekbone.

 

Jaime let his eyes drift to a close, and he captured her lips in a languid kiss. He expected her tongue to taste like the metal she handled everyday, but it was sweet like warm fruit, and he deepened the kiss.

 

If anyone could shut him up, it was her.


	7. And fresh from the kisses of death

_vii._

 

He gasped awake, flying upward from where he lay. Jaime did not recognize the room, but no, it wasn’t a room—it was a cave, and its walls were painted red with fire. He felt the wound in his side pang, and he winced as he reached down to grab it. Jaime looked down to see he was bandaged around his middle. He tried to think who would do this for him when his head shot up at a sudden sound not too far away.

 

Brienne froze, noticing his apprehension and his fear. Jaime felt the terror leave him at the sight of her, an immediate relief flooding his veins. Exhaling a deep breath, Jaime let himself fall back down and stared at the stone ceiling above him. He watched the play of shadows dance across it.

 

She approached him slowly, kneeling down beside him. “How are you feeling?” Brienne asked him, her hand grazing his forehead in a tender gesture.

 

“Better,” Jaime said quietly, finding his throat scratchy. He narrowed his eyes at the ceiling. “Not dead.”

 

“How do you know you’re not dead?” she asked, and Jaime whipped his head toward her with alarm in his eyes. Brienne tried to smile at him, but she looked absolutely wretched instead. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I was trying to make a joke . . . ”

 

“Oh,” Jaime said, slowly relaxing once more. There was an uncomfortable silence.

 

“I will go get you some water,” Brienne said with a sudden abruptness, moving to stand, but Jaime grasped her wrist, gentle but firm, and shook his head.

 

“No, please,” he pleaded, turning his head to look at her. “Stay with me, my lady . . . ”

 

The corner of Brienne’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “Of course,” she told him, covering his hand with her own and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I will stay with you, Ser Jaime.”

 

Jaime twined his fingers between hers and held her hand back, allowing himself to close his eyes again as long as she was near him.


	8. Cry aloud, for the old world is broken

_viii._

 

When Jaime kissed her, he didn't expect Brienne to kiss him back with a soft moan in the back of her throat, her lips humming against his in a gentle reverberation. He didn't expect the way her hand grazed softly against his neck, or the way her legs wrapped so comfortably around his waist to take him in as if he belonged there. He didn't expect to ever love every inch of her body, or the freckles on the bridge of her nose, or the way her eyes rolled back with her head when he thrust his cock in just right, her hands clenching hard on his shoulders as he watched her expression with lust in his eyes. He didn't expect the way her hips bucked against his in tune with each thrust, and he didn't expect fucking her would ever feel this good, this completing, this  _intense_ , or that her cries of pleasure would send him over the edge with his own peak as her whole body shuddered beneath him and she came down off her high, her eyes glazed with peacefulness and surrender.

 

He didn't expect the soft kisses or the tender touches afterwards, or the way she looked him in the eyes and how he drowned in her gaze as he had drowned himself in her body just moments before.

 

Jaime never expected a lot of things, but somehow despite all of the surprises, he always expected he would love her.


End file.
